


Back to the Future

by tunacafe



Series: Not Made for Normal [3]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Family Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28972974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunacafe/pseuds/tunacafe
Summary: Neither of them knew this would be their last conversation.Sam's (belated) fourteenth birthday, a movie and a car ride. Expanded scene from the multichapter fic Not Made for Normal.
Series: Not Made for Normal [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959685
Kudos: 10





	Back to the Future

_ July 1985 _

“You’re awfully quiet, Starbuck.”

“...”

“You didn’t like the movie?”

Sam shifted around, pulling his shoes up onto the edge of the seat in a defensive little crouch. He bit idly at the skin around one of his fingernails, eyes still fixed out the window at nothing in particular.

“Sam?”

“What?” he sounded as if he’d just come back from very far away.

“I asked if you liked the movie.”

“It was okay,” he mumbled, moving onto his next finger, “It would’ve been more fun if I went with friends.”

Frank took a deep breath and blew it steadily out his nose, like his case manager had suggested for times when Samuel was being especially frustrating. 

“There’s some money in your birthday card, you could go again if you wanted.”

“I dunno,” Sam monotoned, “It was just okay.”

Frank wasn’t sure if Sam was being intentionally difficult or if he genuinely hadn’t enjoyed himself. He’d been hoping that something fun would make their conversation a little easier tonight. He turned right on Albert St.

Sam perked up in his seat, looking out the window with more intent, “Where are we going?”

“Thought I’d take the back way -- you don’t have to be back till nine, right? Thought we could have a little more father-son time.”

“Why?”

Sam’s voice felt somehow both flat and accusatory at the same time.

Frank cleared his throat, “It’s been a few months, right? Thought maybe we could play a little catch-up.”

Sam settled back into his seat, a worried crease etching its place between his brows. He didn’t look like he was planning on a response.

“How’s school been?”

“Why? You could just call administration any time and ask if I’m being a shit-head again.”

_ “Samuel--,”  _

Wait. Take a breath. Try not to take it personally.

“Sam, I’m not prying for your discipline record right now. I just… wanna know if you made any new friends, or if you learned something interesting maybe?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No I  _ haven’t.” _

There. Another fantastic dead end. Sam was preoccupied with digging his heels into the seat in a way that was definitely going to leave dirty scuff marks. In fact, he seemed almost intent on doing so.

“Well what kind of books have you been reading?”

“Playboy.”

_ “Samuel.” _

“What? What do you wanna know, Dad?” he slid down in his seat and started kicking the glove box, “That I’ve been reading the same five books as always, ‘cause I’m not allowed in the library anymore? ‘Cause they said I was stealing again?”

_ “Put your fucking feet down, Samuel, I am trying to have a conversation with you.” _

Sam gave the glovebox a final kick before dropping his feet back to the floor with an emphatic thud. Frank didn’t miss the way his sneaker had left a dusty footprint on the plastic.

“We have something important to talk about, and I need you to act your age for three seconds.”

Frank glanced over to assess the damage. Sam was still slumped down, tugging angrily at a lock of hair. It made him look about five years younger, and Frank felt a pang of longing for a time when the only thing Sam was mad about was losing at checkers. He tried to keep his tone even, reminding himself to count to ten before he started yelling again.

“I got a job offer, okay?”

“Okay?”

“And it’s a good job, alright? The pay is what I’ve been looking for, a little extra, even -- I bet we could even take that Florida trip we’ve been talking about if the Home signs off on it.”

Sam prickled in his seat, “So… why is this an Important Discussion?”

“Well, it’s -- well, it’s at this college in Philadelphia.”

_ “Philly?” _

“It’s a little farther west than Philly, actually, but--,”

“Dad, we don’t  _ live  _ in Philly!”

“I know -- I  _ know, _ and you and Nate aren’t gonna have to move again, but,” all the words he’d rehearsed in his head seemed to float too far above his grasp, “but I  _ really  _ need this job, Starbuck.”

“What’s wrong with working at the travel agency? You’ve been there for a  _ year.” _

What’s wrong is that kind of money was barely enough to support a man and his wife, and Donna was six months pregnant. 

“You know, living in the city’s getting more and more expensive and… I mean, I think it’d be good for all of us if there was a little more money around. I could get you boys Christmas presents, or uh, you could sign up for those guitar lessons you’ve been talking about.”

“So you’re leaving?”

Frank could barely spare him a glance without feeling the need to vomit, but he could see Sam fully sitting up out of the corner of his eye, rigid with expectation.

“I’m not  _ leaving, _ I’m  _ moving--,” _

“You’re leaving us _ again.” _

“I’m  _ still  _ going to visit, and there’s an Amtrak all the way from South Station to Philly if you and Nate wanna come down for Christmas -- the apartment, it’s got  _ three  _ bedrooms and it’s  _ real close _ to a bunch of museums.”

“You don’t even visit us  _ now.” _

“I’m  _ trying, _ Sam,” Frank tightened his grip on the steering wheel, he was certain he’d missed his turn, “Things aren’t always as simple as we want them to be.”

“That’s bullshit.”

_ “Don’t you fucking use that language with me.” _

Sam was quiet. He’d brought his feet back onto the chair and was picking frantically at his nails again. 

“Stop picking at your fingers, they’re gonna start bleeding again.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Frank had to loop back around several side streets to get back on track. The Home wasn’t far from this point.

“Look, I’m sorry I missed your birthday, okay?”

Sam continued picking. It was too dark to see if he’d drawn blood yet.

“I know these gaps between visits -- they’re getting longer, but Donna’s been,” Frank bit his cheek, “she’s been sick, lately. She needs a lot of attention right now and I gotta be there for her -- and this move, it’s gonna be real good for her. It’s gonna be good for all of us.”

Still no answer.

This was kind of Sam’s thing now -- the silent treatment. It  _ had  _ been for almost a year, ever since Frank had told the boys about his and Donna’s engagement. Sam had  _ never  _ liked her, but even all his yelling and berating felt easier to deal with than the way he just closed up. Worse yet, Nathan always seemed to be playing a game of follow-the-leader, so it made it twice as difficult to talk to them.

“You wanna report to Captain, Starbuck?”

Sam’s voice was very quiet, “Is she gonna die?”

“What?”

“Donna -- is she gonna die?”

Oh, Christ.

“No, Sam. She’s not sick like that.”

Sam had his arms folded over his knees, his face peeking out from behind an elbow. Frank kept his focus on the road. He knew what he’d see if he looked over. The way Sam’s eyes would command such an accusatory sadness, in a way that reminded him all too painfully of Cass in her final months. She’d felt abandoned by him, too.

“I’m not gonna let that happen again.”

Maybe Sam was satisfied with that answer. He let his face sink back into the little cavern he’d constructed with his arms and legs.

Frank didn’t know how to read him anymore, but at least for tonight, he was done trying. 

He pulled up to the front gates and put the car in park. Sister Rebecca was sitting on the bench by the main office, waiting to get Sam signed back in. The round edge of her spectacles glinted in the headlights as she thumbed patiently through a paperback. This was usually their time to wrap up with some niceties, usually an  _ ‘I’ll see you soon’  _ and a curt  _ ‘bye’ _ with Sam, or a half-hearted hug with little Nathan.

Frank pulled a blue envelope out of the door’s side compartment and held it out for Sam, “Don’t forget your card.”

Sam made no move to accept the card. He untangled his limbs and kept his gaze locked firmly on the ground. Under the streetlights, Frank could see the crescents of blood caking his fingernails. Sam unbuckled himself and opened the door,

“You never should’ve let it happen in the first place.”

He climbed out without another word and jogged up to Sister Rebecca with his hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets.

Frank watched as the woman tucked her paperback beneath her arm and followed Sam into the office; the warmth of the lamps inside swallowed up by the night’s cold blue as the door closed behind them.


End file.
